I rest my elbows on the railing, staring out at the fading sky. The sunset paints the courtyard in soft amber light, and I find myself wondering—if I had told her how I felt years ago, would anything have been different?
Probably not.
Sitara deserves someone who makes her feel sure. Who can give her the kind of stability she’s always craved. And I… I’m too wrapped in my own world, too scarred by expectations I didn’t even choose.
So I’ll let her go. I’ve always known that would be the ending.
But letting her go doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.
“Sir, the bride’s procession will begin shortly,” one of the guards informs me.
I nod, forcing my thoughts to clear. “Good. Make sure the path is clear.”
“Yes, sir.”
The guard leaves, and I straighten my sherwani again, adjusting my cufflinks like it’ll help me stay composed.
If anyone notices the tension in my jaw, they’ll probably think I’m worried about security. No one will guess that the only thing I’m fighting is the urge to look for her before the ceremony even begins.
I walk back toward the main entrance, where guests are beginning to murmur in anticipation. Devraj stands near the dais, his expression softening as the sounds of dhols and shehnai grow louder.
“She’s coming,” he says quietly, almost to himself.
And she is.
When the curtain parts and Sitara steps into the courtyard, it’s like the world forgets to breathe. Her lehenga glows under the lights, shades of deep red and gold catching every flicker of the flame from the oil lamps. Her eyes are wide, nervous, but there’s a small, determined smile tugging at her lips.
She looks… unreal.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into fists behind my back.
Around me, guests murmur, compliment, sigh. Meher and Poorvi walk just behind her, straightening her dupatta, whispering something that makes her laugh softly. The soundreaches me through the noise, and for a moment, I forget where I am.
It’s strange, being so close yet feeling so far away.
I shouldn’t be looking at her like this. Not today. Not ever. But try telling that to my heart.
I keep my eyes fixed on the ceremony as Devraj signals for the priest to begin. The rituals are beautiful, steeped in tradition, everything executed with royal precision. I keep myself busy helping staff, nodding to the photographers, making sure no chaos slips through. Anything to avoid thinking too much.
Still, every time I glance at her, I feel that same pull. That same quiet ache that’s lived under my skin for years.
I don’t even know when it started. Maybe the first time she teased me for being too serious. Or the time she fell asleep in the garden during a family event and I covered her with my jacket. Or maybe it was just the way she looked at the world—with curiosity instead of entitlement.
Whatever it was, it never left.
A few guests approach me, trying to make conversation, but my attention keeps drifting back to her. When her gaze flickers my way for a split second, I smile politely. She doesn’t notice.
And maybe that’s for the best.
After all, what could I offer her that she doesn’t already have? A heart too used to holding back? A life too tangled in obligations?
No. She deserves more than almost-love.
As the ceremony continues, I focus on my duties, keeping my emotions locked neatly behind years of practice. It’s what I’mgood at—being composed while my heart unravels quietly inside my chest.
When the final chants echo and the guests start clapping, I force a smile and join them. Devraj catches my eye across the courtyard, nodding slightly. I nod back. The king, the friend, the brother—I play all my roles perfectly.
But somewhere beneath it all, there’s a man watching the only woman he’s ever loved become someone else’s forever. And he knows he’ll never tell her. Because sometimes love isn’t about claiming. It’s about protecting the little piece of peace you get from someone’s presence—even if it means never being theirs.
